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LONG    LANCE

selves out into a long, speeding,, diagonal line,
which began to flank In on the left side of the
racing herd. The heavy, woolly shoulders of the
mad-eyed brutes were bouncing high Into the air
as they ran, and I remember wondering how one
of them would be to ride. We could hear them
panting.

When we got close to the herd we youngsters
pulled In our ponies and raced along behind our
fathers, watching every movement they made.
We saw each of the warriors carefully pick out a
fat cow and then speed up to get as close as they
could before firing. Most of them were using
their bows and arrows first, and they would not
pull a string until they were racing along right
over the left shoulder of the buffalo. Then,
'fluckr—and a long, steel-tipped arrow would
bury Itself deep Into the shaggy withers of the
beast, and It would take a few steps and pitch for-
ward, pierced through the heart. But the buffalo
died hard—they rolled and mooed and struggled
valiantly for a second or two before shivering and
stiffening out under the final thrust of death.

One of our boys, Shakes~the~Other~Pellow9
came near losing his life by riding too close behind
Ms father. His father, PItanina, had picked out
a fat cow and was trying to separate it from two
bulls, between which it was racing madly for pro-
tection. One of the bulls, rather fat and old,